


my soul’s weight lies on thee

by weefaol



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Confessions, Crack, Drunken Shenanigans, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Humor, Jealous Dean, M/M, Sexual Tension, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 11:30:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13589133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/weefaol/pseuds/weefaol
Summary: To fulfill his destiny of becoming the Antichrist, Sam must convince Dean — his Beloved Consort, aka Soulmate — to consummate their impending marriage on an alter in front of a host of angels and demons. (These are the rules of the divine, people. Don't try me.)Since neither of them know what the f*ck they are doing, they decide to test the waters first.A timestamp based on fleshflutter's "the incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride."





	my soul’s weight lies on thee

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the incestuous courtship of the antichrist's bride](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/355740) by fleshflutter. 



> Thank you to [fleshflutter](https://fleshflutter.livejournal.com/) for creating such a beautiful universe. I was so tickled by it that I attempted to write my own timestamp. "Attempt" being the operative word.
> 
> Title is from Anne Reeve Aldrich's poem _Servitude_.

“I’m your _what_?”

Sam sighed at his brother, who was standing in front of him like a deer in the headlights. Dean hadn’t taken the news particularly well. “My Beloved Consort. Like, um, a sort of… wife.”

Dean opened and closed his mouth several times. “And we — we have to get…”

“— married. Yep. And, uh,”—Sam coughed—“ _havesexonanalter_.”

“What?”

“Er, have sex on an alter?”

Dean froze. He leaned closer. “Come again?”

“Pretty much.”

Dean shook his head, willing the bad thoughts away. “I need to sit down.” He plunked his ass down in the chair in the corner of the room, looking pale and sickly.

Sam grabbed the bottle of whiskey and handed it over to Dean, who took a huge swig. “I know it’s not ideal…”

“Not ideal? Sam, genital herpes is _not ideal_. This? This is straight-up hillbilly crazy.” He took another swig.

“I get it, okay? I’m sorry.”

Dean shook his head. “How did this even happen? And if you say ‘the devil made me do it,’ so help me God…”

Sam shrugged. “It’s just one of those things I have to do to become the Anti-Christ. A ritual.”

“But why _me_?” Another swig. “Isn’t there some nice, Satan-worshipping girl you could bang? I hear they’re complete freaks in bed.”

Sam sighed dramatically. “Because, Dean, you’re my _soulmate_.”

“Soulmate?” Dean paused the bottle mid-swig. “Like the Zeus-splitting-people-in-half type of soulmate?”

“Like the I-love-you-most-in-the-world-and-would-die-for-you-in-a-second type.”

“Aw, Sammy, that’s real sweet of you…” Dean’s eyes sparkled before bulging again. “BUT THIS IS STILL INSANE.”

Sam bristled. He beckoned to the bottle of Jack.

“Get your own damn whiskey,” Dean pouted, hugging the bottle to his chest. He retreated towards the bathroom and paused at the door, turning back slightly. “And don’t even think about touching that bed. If I’m gonna be your belovedy-wife thing, you’d better get used to the couch. Bitch.”

_SLAM._

***

“Are you sure there’s no other way? No other path to becoming the Anti-Christ?”

This was a perfectly normal conversation for a roadside diner. And one that a poor night’s sleep had definitely, absolutely prepared them to have. Communication is the cornerstone of a healthy marriage, after all.

Sam flipped through Jack Kerouac’s _The Paths of the Black Messiah_ , trying his best to ignore Dean stuffing sausages in his pie hole and slurping down black coffee. “It says here I could drink the blood of 10,000 goats instead.”

Dean bowed his head in concentration, his eyes shifting back and forth.

Sam shot him a look.

“What? I’m _thinking_.” Dean chomped off another bit of sausage. “Yeah, I guess ass-fucking your brother is faster.”

The waitress had chosen an unfortunate time to drop by to refill their coffees. She froze mid-pour and affixed a scandalized gaze at Dean, who shrugged.

Sam sighed, watching her walk away in horror. “Dude, chill with the whole _brotherfucking_ thing in public.”

“You started it.”

Sam took a sip of coffee, watching Dean sop up syrup with a piece of toast. Cleared his throat. “So, um, speaking of the whole _sex on an alter_ thing…”

Dean winced as he tore at a piece of bacon then tugged at his collar, looking around desperately for the waitress. “Jeez, freakin’ hot in here, isn’t it?”

“Anyway,” continued Sam, ignoring him, “we might want to consider, um, testing the waters first.”

Dean paused mid-chew. “Excuse me?”

“I think we should — well, we should do it at least once before the wedding. I don’t know about you, but I’ve never done it with a guy before.”

“What, you think I’m some expert? Dude, I’m telling you, I’m a total gay virgin. A _girgin_.”

“Okay, okay, so we’re both _girgins_.” The tips of Sam’s ears turned pink. “Do you really want the first time to be in front of a bunch of angels and demons?”

“You want to take my ass virginity before our wedding night? Not very romantic, Sammy.”

Sam huffed a nervous laugh. “I mean, I never said _you_ had to be the one getting fucked, but if you’re offering…”

Dean blushed pink. He took a sip of coffee, avoiding his brother’s eye. “Well, I just thought…” He fidgeted in his seat. “I just assumed you — I mean, if that’s weird then I —”

“No, it’s not weird,” said Sam, smiling shyly. “Actually, I think me topping would work best.”

At last, Dean looked up and caught eyes with his brother, his blush deepening to scarlet red. He nodded once and bit his bottom lip. It was as good of a commitment that Sam was going to get.

“Okay,” said Sam, nodding and bopping his fist on the table. “We’ll give it a try tonight.”

Dean stayed quiet for a moment, then leaned back against the booth, fanned himself and yelped at anyone who could hear,

“CAN WE GET SOME A.C. GOING IN HERE, OR WHAT?”

***

The motel room was silent as the grave Dean had salted and burned that evening. Sam, on the other hand, had spent the day at the local library doing apocalypse research and had agreed to meet back at their motel at nine o’ clock sharp.

Being the impeccable hunter he was, Dean arrived home first and had since showered, groomed himself as best as he could manage, and sprayed a bit of cologne onto his chest. He nearly had a heart attack when he realized he was making himself smell good to seduce his little brother, but he shook that mindfuck from his head as quickly as it had come.

At a quarter to nine, Dean slipped on a fresh pair of jeans and Zeppelin tee and was now pacing around the room, pulling at the musty curtains for the umpteenth time to make sure every sliver of moonlight was filtered out. If no light could get in, maybe that would somehow make what they were about to do less one-way-ticket-to-Hell-ish. He spun around, staring at the perfectly made motel bed and imagining with horror all the earthly sin that was about to take place on it.

“Whatever happens in you stays between us,” muttered Dean, pointing at the bed and then shaking himself because he had most certainly gone insane.

The click of the door latch nearly made him jump out of his skin. Sam was always so goddamn early.

Sam entered the room, a large paper bag in his hand. He eyed his brother with concern. “Dude, you okay?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine. Just fine,” said Dean in a flurry. “I’m talking to the bed. Fine-fine-fine. Fineee —”

“— _Dean_. Here.” Sam distracted him by lifting a bottle of Jack Daniels from the paper bag.

“Oh, thank god,” said Dean, clutching his chest and doubling over, hands on his knees. He took a few steadying breaths before beckoning to the liquor bottle. “Give it to me, baby.”

Sam let out a nervous giggle. “Uh, shouldn’t you save the dirty talk for later?”

Dean’s mouth fell open in horror.

“Sorry,” said Sam, blushing. “Bad joke.”

“ _Jesus Christ_ , Sam.” He grabbed the bottle, cracked open the cap, and downed a hefty swallow. Or three. Or five. Then, he handed the whiskey to his brother, who took a modest swig and tried to hand it back. Dean frowned, imploring him to take another mouthful.

“I’m good,” said Sam, shaking his head. “Don’t wanna overdo it.”

“Why not?”

Sam ducked his head. “Um, ever hear of whiskey dick?”

“ _That’s_ what you’re worried about right now? Hoo-boy.” Dean took one more gulp before setting the bottle on the bedside table. “I’ll probably regret asking, but what else is in the bag?”

“Oh, just some stuff I picked up. Lube, condoms, wet wipes, M&Ms…” He shrugged when Dean threw him a look. “What? I get hungry.”

Dean ventured over to inspect the items, balking when he picked up the box of condoms. “Extra large?! What’ve you got Big Foot’s dick or something?”

“I don’t know!” said Sam, flailing his hands. “I was nervous!”

Dean threw the condoms down on the table. “Yeah, no way we’re using those. If I end up catching some Big Foot’s dick disease, you can use your Anti-Christ powers to cleanse me.”

Sam chuckled. At least they were keeping things light. “So, incestuous elephant in the room…” he said, wringing his hands. “How should we, you know, _do this_?”

“Why don’t we, um, get on the bed? Get used to the idea…”

Sam nodded. “Okay.”

They moved to the bed, laying down to face each other, a good arm’s length still between them. Every creak of the mattress was augmented in the quiet. Sam clicked the bedside table lamp off, shrouding the room in darkness, save for the muted greens and blues of the nearby motel sign. They lay in the neon-tinged dark for a good five minutes without speaking.

“Maybe —” Sam started, his breath catching. “Maybe we should kiss.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Yeah, okay. Um, we’re gonna need to be a lot closer than this…”

They awkwardly shuffled their bodies until they were laying side by side, faces just inches apart. You could cut the tension in the air with a demon’s knife.

Suddenly, Sam grinned.

“What? Do I have boogers? Something in my teeth?”

“Remember when we used to lay like this?” said Sam, fondly. “We used to stay up half the night talking about girls and movies and how annoying Dad was.”

Dean snorted. “Sam, this is weird enough without you bringing Dad into this.”

“Sorry,” Sam laughed, his warm breath ghosting Dean’s mouth. He bit his bottom lip, glancing up under those long eyelashes. “Just nervous.”

“Me too,” said Dean, quietly. He took a deep breath, his heart thumping like wild. “Those were my favourite nights. When Dad had fucked off on some hunt and it was just the two of us. It was like we were in our own little world.”

Sam blushed. “I lived for that world.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, each searching for _something_ in each other’s eyes. They laid stark still, fearing the slightest movement would kill the mood. Dean’s cheeks were hot. The tips of Sam’s ears were too. But they were still way too sober for this.

“Drinks?” They chimed in unison and then laughed. Dean rolled over and grabbed the bottle of Jack, taking a sip before passing it to Sam, who joined him, whiskey dick be damned.

***

Nearly thirty minutes of nursing the bottle later, they were both drunk and giggly on the bed.

“Dude, you did _not_ bang Mrs. Wallace…”

Dean grinned stupidly, the whiskey swimming in his bloodstream. “How’d you think you got all those As?”

“I dunno, studying my ass off while you watched _Wild Things_ for the millionth time?”

Dean barked. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Come on,” said Sam, raising his eyebrow and shuffling closer on the bed. “Tell me something real. Kinkiest thing you’ve ever done.”

Dean’s eyes flared. The liquor was making his skin heat and his head dizzy. “How much time’ve you got?”

“You’re so full of shit.”

“Alright, alright,” said Dean, acquiescing. He started running through a laundry list of filthy stuff he’d done, from fucking two girls in the Impala in one night, to getting head from a MILF in a truck-stop bathroom, to the crazy chick with daddy issues who begged him to spank her harder, _harder_. When he got to the story about the Petersen twins, Sam groaned and rolled away on the bed.

“ _What?_ ” said Dean, scoffing. “I’m giving you my best material here.”

“You’ve told me all of these a million times.” He rolled back towards Dean, shuffling a little closer. He licked his lips. Could taste the liquor on the them. “Tell me something you’ve never told anyone.”

Dean blushed. Leave it to Sam to peel back his layers. Number one bullshit detector. Dean took the last swig of whiskey, finished it off with a swallow, and tossed the bottle aside. He couldn’t believe he was about to say it. “Alright, fine. Rhonda Hurley.”

“From Jefferson High?”

“Yeah,” said Dean, face flushing. “She had these, uh, pink panties. Satiny ones. She made me try ‘em on.”

Sam eyes widened. “What happened?”

Dean shook his head, embarrassed. “She, um… jerked me off in them. Told me I looked pretty. Stuff like that.” He couldn’t meet his brother’s eyes.

Sam’s mouth fell open. “ _Jesus_ , Dean. That’s… kinda hot.” His eyes scanned the length of Dean’s body, lust-filled. “Who knew Dean Winchester was a secret submissive?”

“Shut up,” said Dean, a soft smile at the corner of his mouth. “You knew.”

Sam grinned. “Yeah, I knew.”

Dean blinked. There was a nervous dark energy in his eyes that was also kind of beautiful. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

“You sure you can handle it?” He waggled his eyebrows.

“Pfff. Bitch, please.”

Sam closed his eyes and drew a breath. “Alright, here goes. In college, I kinda screwed around with my friend.”

“Fuck buddy. Nice! I hope she was one of those weirdo goth chicks.”

“Actually, _she_ was kind of a _he_.”

For once in his life, Dean was at a loss for words. He could only blink.

Sam continued, filling the silence. “We met first semester in SOC 101. We just kind of clicked. So, we started hanging out — at movies, parties, the library…”

Dean listened with rapt attention, his jaw clenching in discomfort.

“Anyway, one night he came over to play video games and we got drunk. And I started to notice things.”

“What things?”

“Like, the way he was acting. All touchy-feely.” Sam let out a breathy laugh. “Like he was _flirting_ with me. He kept touching my leg.”

“Touching your leg?” said Dean, a little too brusquely. He was drunk and dizzy, but an unmistakable pang of jealousy tugged at the inside of his bellybutton.

“Yeah. And I knew by the way he was looking at me. Drinking me in. Wanting me.”

Dean’s cheeks blushed hot. Maybe it was the whiskey, or the close quarters, or the fact that they were _soulmates_ or whatever, but Dean was beginning to understand exactly what _wanting_ Sam Winchester was like.

“Anyway,” Sam continued, “he ended up staying really late, so he crashed on our couch. And when my roommate fell asleep, he crawled into my bed and we, well…”

Dean’s face reddened in an instant. “I thought you said you’d never —”

“We didn’t go all the way,” said Sam, shaking his head. Then, he grinned. “But we went pretty far.”

Dean blinked several times. The whiskey was making it difficult for his brain to process the fact that his baby brother had been fucking around with another guy. It was unmistakable. Dean was jealous. “What’d he do?”

Sam blinked, his long lashes prettying up his whiskey eyes. “He, um…” He bit his bottom lip. “He put his hands on me. Touched me.”

Dean’s eyes were steely grey in the dark. “Show me.”

Sam’s breath hitched. “Dean, I don’t —”

“— _Show me_ ,” he urged, an edge to his voice and a whiskey rasp. “Show me where, Sam.”

Sam blinked twice and bit his bottom lip. Slowly, he brought a hand to his own mouth, shaky fingers trembling over his lips. “Here.”

Dean’s cock swelled with a surge of jealousy, just thinking about another man touching his little brother. Then, everything became clear at once — Sam was _his_. Dean could never let him be anyone else’s. Not ever. “Where else?”

With hooded eyes, Sam trailed his hand from his mouth, down his chest, to the bottom of his T-shirt. Dipped his fingers below the hem and smoothed them up his abdomen, rucking the fabric up. He ran his hand over a nipple, catching the peak between two fingers. “Here.”

Dean’s breath hitched, watching his brother’s hand. Just _looking_ at his body. Until this moment, Dean had never considered his brother as an object of attraction. But there had always been underpinnings — of shared clothes and backseat cuddles, measured stares in motel rooms and jealousy that reared its ugly head whenever new friends or neighbours crept near. He swallowed, a lump in his throat and a swirl in his belly. “Where else?”

Sam bit his lip. Trailed his hand back down his abdomen until his fingers fumbled at his jeans. With hazy eyes, he looked at Dean, alcohol swimming in his veins and desire misting the air. Reached out and touched Dean’s hand, pulled it towards him until he was rubbing Sam’s cock, full and heavy in his jeans. “ _Here_.”

Dean drew a breath. “Sammy…” He let his brother guide his hand along his erection, rubbing his fingers along the ridges. He’d never touched another man like this. But it didn’t feel weird. Didn’t feel abnormal, or immoral, even.

It just felt right.

Dean’s own cock throbbed and ached as he got dizzy with dicklust, head-spinning and arousal flooding his senses. Watched through heavy-lidded eyes as Sam’s fingers fiddled with belt loops and buckles, unzipping his own jeans and tugging his boxers down. Dean’s lip quivered as his eyes shifted down.

Pink, glistening, beautiful. Swollen head, pretty peach and tan.

Sam’s all grown up now.

Without prompt, without reservation, without a second thought, Dean scooted down, leaned in and licked his blowjob lips. Fastened them around his brother’s dick and tongued around the tip. He’d never tasted anything so perfect. So made for him. And he’s most certainly ruined forever. Because there’s no way on God’s green earth he’s coming back from this. He’ll change his name — Domestic Bliss.

“Suck me, Dean,” Sam hummed in broken whispers. “Please, make me come.”

Dean’s always been good with his mouth. Slinging snark at police, sweet talking bartenders, savouring cheeseburgers and shooting whiskey. It’s no wonder he’d take to this so gorgeously. Sucking his brother’s cock like his life depended on it.

The fate of humanity sort of does.

“ _Mmmm_ ,” Dean moaned, the vibrations making Sam’s dick twitch. Slid his slippery lips around before pulling off and catching eyes with his brother. Can’t believe they’re doing this, but it feels _inevitable_ somehow. Like growing old or falling in love. Dean’s always wanted to do both of those things. And, as he teased around the swollen head of Sam’s cock, kissing the tip like a promise, he suddenly knew beyond a doubt who he wanted to do them with.

“Dean…” They gazed at each other, Sam’s body trembling and needy. “ _Please_.”

Dean grinned and took his brother in again. Suckled and swirled his tongue around his cock until Sam’s legs shook. Then, he moaned and slid deeper, guiding him to the back of his throat, swallowing him down like he can’t get enough, like he wants him _inside_. Dean had never been so wet, so _desperate_ , in his life.

It’s nothing compared to Sam, who threw his head back and shuddered, beads of sweat glazing on his pretty thighs. “Dean, I won’t last. You’re gonna make me… _oh-ohhhh_.”

There must be a fallen angel on his shoulder, because Dean opened his eyes and caught the moment when Sam tipped over the edge, falling freely, a roller coaster at zero gravity. He was so beautiful like this. And Dean took it all in — Sam’s scent, his want, his moaning and groaning, twitching and trembling — as he spilled into Dean’s eager mouth.

A minute later, when lust dissolved and drunk brothers remained, they still found themselves on solid ground.

“No way that was your first time,” said Sam, grinning in euphoria. Boneless and breathing easy.

“That good, eh?” Dean smiled as he climbed back up to the pillow and settled next to Sam. He shrugged. “I just know what I like done to _me_. And you’re my brother so I figured…”

Sam chortled. “Dude, that is so wrong.”

Dean leaned back, his head swimming with whiskey and sweet salt on his tongue. “Sammy, if that was wrong, then I don’t wanna be right.”

“I _knew_ you were going to say that. You’re such a cliché.”

“No, I’m your Beloved Consort,” said Dean. “And we’re one step closer to saving the world.”

Sam turned his head towards his brother and blinked. “That might be the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Like you said,”—Dean winked—“we’re meant to be.”

In hallowed, Hellfire eternity.


End file.
